Turn Back the Hourglass
by SaoirseSpeir
Summary: Slight AU, Chrosette. Rosette knows the greatest Sin is to make a deal with a Devil. But she's dying. And Joshua has been taken. What else has she to lose?
1. Chapter 1

An old plot bunny which I unearthed. Slight AU. Long live Chrno and Rosette!

**

* * *

**

_You've aged far too quickly. Look at this pale, pale skin, stretched and soft over bones too brittle for you. You've lost it before you could fully enjoy it. Your childhood has disappeared; those paths into the future have been cruelly erased. What will you look back on - what happiness is there? There will not be a "just like old times" for you. Nor will you experience that sweet feeling of nostalgia that grace us. Please, Merciful Lord, save this child. Spare her...Let Rosette live._

Only a Devilf hears, in the dark of night. Off violet hair and golden eyes, he stalks the moonlight on clawed limbs, his small leathered wings that can lift even a large buck, heavy with death. Time is something he can give.

Rosette wants to live. The sickness that steals her time and makes her a frail, bent girl woke suddenly, unexpectedly, and in less than a year she could hardly move without crying out in pain. Progeria, they called it. And she hates it. She hates seeing Joshua being put to work – he's sick too, don't you see? – she hates being stuck in bed with nothing to do except sky-watching, Joshua-watching, and maybe, if she struggles, a little potter about her small room. She hates it, loathes it! A hateful, hateful child.

Someone knows this, as he floats up to her window, the only one left open on this autumn night. He knows hate is hate, no matter what the context. He knows how to deal with these types.

Rosette woke as the moonlight is abruptly shorted by a large shadow standing in her open window. She's forgotten to shut it again – but maybe she knew something would happen, maybe she knew something had been watching her. How easy it is to forget, she thinks. The shadow stepped lightly into her room, the black wings that were small enough to disappear into his cloak flapping, soundless, weightless. She felt no fear, though she knew what it was. She lives in a Christian orphanage, after all.

Moonlight streams back into the room, highlighting a profile both tall and masculine. She couldn't see the colour of hair, but it was dark, strands of shadow falling to brush an angular face. Eyes that glowed gold in the darkest light stared into ones that shone with the fever of the sky. Rosette deemed it wise to stay silent, for now.

"Do you want power, child? Do you wish to live?" The Devil's voice was whisper-faint, but deep, like the rumbling of a distant avalanche.

Rosette felt cold, cold, deep within her bones. Shef knew where this Devil would lead the question. Her mouth shuddered open, words spilled out. "I...yes. If...If you let Joshua have life too."

"That is a deal I cannot fulfill."f

"What? But he's sick, like me! You gotta—"

The Devil shifts, his tattered cloak moving to reveal claws that gleamed in the moonlight. Rosette thought of the large kitchen blades that had severed many a finger. Her voice shrank back into her throat and with a small _hff_, she pulled the blankets up to her nose.

"Do not presume so much, human child. One so puny as you will never even aspire to command a Devil."

He inspects his claws, and almost childishly smirks at the uncomfortable shifting of the child.

"I am Chrono, the Keeper of Time. It is not...common, to find such strong feelings of hate in a child. You—"

Rosette deemed it unwise to interrupt. But she did so nonetheless. The Devil spoke like one of her old school teachers, who could spiel on and on and on about something and bore the class to sleep. It was risky to let it continue, 'specially since she was already in bed.

"How'd you know I was a kid?"

The Devil blinks. For a small moment, it looked at her as if in shock. But soon eyebrows began to knot, eyes narrowing.

"I mean, I hardly look a one now, do I? I've this dis-ese, see, which makes me look like one of em old cranky nuns, and everyone says I don't look like a kid no more. So, so..."

"You interrupted me."

"I wanted to ask something. How'd you know I was a kid?"

"Do not do so again."

"...fine." It really was like a teacher. Inwardly, she groaned. How angry would the Devil get if she fell asleep on it?

The Devil sighed, passing a clawed hand before its eyes. "Now...You are dying. There—"

A sudden movement that sounded like a derisive snort came from the bed, but when the Devil, teeth gritted in irritation, snapped a glare at her, only her innocent blue eyes looked back. He was wondering whether he had made a mistake in coming here. Could it be too late to leave with a mysterious flap of cloak? To pass it off as some dream? No, what was he thinking. A little child like this, chase him off? Who did she think she was?

"You are _very_ close to dying." He growled. "However, there is something you can do about it. I can offer you some form of redemption from the ravages of time. It is your decision, but if I were you, with death biting my heels, I would accept."

"What about Joshua? I can't leave him sickly while I can be healthy!"

"I am Chrono, Keeper of _Time_. Your sickness is closely linked to time. That is why I can make a deal with you. Your Joshua does not have any need of a deal of mine, rather, he should keep away from them. Unless you would like him to die, something I can easily fulfil."

"No! Leave him alone, if you're just gonna kill him. Don't go near him if you're not gonna help him. Do ya hear? Don't, don't you touch him!" She tried to get up, but it's the middle of the night, and the air is cold, stifling. A normal person would find it only slightly chilly, but one who has bones that creak and crack would not. She bursts into a fit of coughing which she tries to stifle with the blanket. Footsteps sound on the stairs, and the matron rushes in, her hair rumpled with sleep.

"Rosette! What's wrong? ...Your windows are open! No wonder you're coughing!"

Rosette tries to respond, to say she is fine, but the coughs force themselves past her words. She looks up out of teary eyes, but the Devil has gone.

* * *

"Rosette? How're you feeling? Sister Dahlia says you were coughing a lot last night."

Joshua sits down beside her bed, wiping his forehead clear of sweat and blonde hair with a small towel. Rosette looked him over, her mouth twisted in a frown. His cheeks were stained red, his normally sky blue eyes – lighter than hers – were lighter still, faint and slightly unfocused. They were working in the fields today, taking advantage of the warm sun. But it would be almost unbearably hot for someone like Joshua, who had a weak heart, a weak constitution.

_They would make someone who is clearly not cut out for hard work do this. _

Rosette noticed his worry and tried to grin. "I'm as fine as ever, you doofus. A few coughs aren't gonna drop me! More importantly, how are _you_ doing? They making you work too hard? If they are, tell me, so I can—"

Joshua shakes his head. "Rosette, please stop straining yourself. I'm fine, I can work. It'll keep them from throwing us out, at any rate."

He stands, and smiles a little sadly down at her. Rosette will never get used to having to look up at her younger brother. He used to be so small. She remembers holding his tiny hands in hers, hugging his petite form tightly as they arrived at the orphanage.

"I'm glad you seem alright. I'll bring up some lunch later, so don't start any fights till then, ok?" He leaves, closing the door softly behind him.

The air is almost immediately deadened. She stares out the window, wishing the outside would blow into her room. The clunking of buckets attracts her attention and she looks down. It's Kevin and his gang, each holding a pail of potatoes. Kevin sees her and whispers to his friends. They erupt into raucous laughter as he tinkles his fingers at her.

"Hey, bedbug! What happened last night? You wet yer bed?"

The group snickers, and Kevin sneers at her. Rosette growls; that face was just _begging_ for a punch. And she would happily deliver free of charge, in fact, she'd insist. Violently. If only she didn't have this frail body, her voice quiet, wavering between whisper and noise.

They turn to leave with sneers at her silence, their backs straight and tall. Their voices are loud, their movements free. One swings the pail of potatoes as if it were a mere basket of flowers. They are healthy. Somehow, this makes Rosette angrier still.

* * *

It is when the moon graces the topmost leaves of the forest beyond the orphanage that Rosette hears the news.

"What do you mean Joshua is _GONE_?!" Rosette did her best to yell. "Gone _**where**_? Why was I not told?!"

"Rosette, please, calm down, you'll hurt yourself!"

"I'm not the one who's gonna be hurting..." she rasped darkly. A few younger children whimpered, tales of old witches who stole the skins of maidens running through their heads. The older children would've laughed, if Rosette had not been so serious.

"Where is my brother?"

"He's safe. He collapsed in the fields during the day—"

"See, I _told _you this would happen!" Rosette snapped, her nails bruising her palms even through the blanket.

"I'm sorry, Rosette. But we need all the help we can get. He's been sent...to a safe place. You don't need to worry about him."

_Don't worry, don't be scared. _As if she wouldn't be. Joshua was the only family she had left. They had been together since the day he was born. Rosette didn't like the mushiness of it, but she truly cared about him. Worry was only a small drop of what she felt.

"Define 'safe'. I thought this would be a safe place, but now my brother is gone and I only hear about it now. After how many hours, and you won't even tell me where he is!" She was trying, she really was. But the tears nipped at the side of her eyes and hysteria just wouldn't give up.

"Dear..." the matron began softly. Rosette slipped away from petting hands. She should've controlled her emotions better – this was just plain humiliating, even without the many pairs of staring eyes.

"You're only young, Rosette. Even though you have this body, you're still considered a child. When you're older, you'll understand. He's not gone forever, you must realize."

Rosette, with her head under blankets, said nothing. After some time, the matron exhaled, a little bit of regret staining the air. She walked out, ushering the whispering children with her.

Rosette's hands unclenched slowly, and she winced as the tension left a nip of pain as it eased out of her bones.

_He's not gone forever. But how long is forever for me?_

* * *

"Child, wake."

Rosette's eyes snapped open. She had been half-expecting the Devil to come again. In fact, she had hoped he would come. The Devil stood, as he had last night, at the foot of her bed, the moon plunging half his face into shadow. One golden eye gazed silently at her.

"Have you made your decision?"

His voice was softer. It had lost the deep-seated rumble of stones, it seemed almost normal, now. There was even a sense of fatigue in his stance. Rosette passed it off. Maybe he just wasn't getting enough sleep.

"I have." She spoke with more confidence than she felt. What if she was making the wrong decision? But this wasn't just about her anymore. She needed to find Joshua. "L-let's hear it then."

The Devil moved to her side, smoothly, like he had simply floated. _Dancing steps. Cat steps. _She considered him. _Panther steps._

"As you wish, child." He smiled, revealing something of a sharp fang. A little chill settled at the base of Rosette's spine. "Let us be away from here, then, before the night gets any lighter."

Rosette froze, shock spreading into her features. "Wai--"

Clawed hands appeared, tearing into her blanket. In one swift movement, her blanket had been turned into a sling, and they were flying.

* * *

Rosette was floating. She was a child again, robust and shining at the age of six. Barefoot, the clouds were stepping stones for her skip in the sky. She had never tasted air like this. It burned deep in her lungs, a painless, invigorating fire. For the first time in yearsmonthsdays she felt the cold and only laughed.

"Rosette!"

She looked up and grinned. Joshua! Wait till he hears her news! He's always been a bit of an occult freak – he'll love this.

"Hey Joshua! Listen, the other night, this Dev—"

_Of violet hair and golden eyes. Sickle'd claws and sharpened fangs. You've made a deal with the Devil, oh foolish child. You don't belong in the sky anymore. _

And she fell and aged and her voice couldn't yell and laugh like it had. Her skin dried and grew and grew till it didn't fit on her body anymore and - _who are you again?_ – there were the children from the orphanage. They stared and giggled and didn't believe. She could almost cry. But bitter old women don't cry.

She reached out with those hands of hers – _quick, the witch is coming! –_ and she thought maybe if she stretched she could touch the stars, she could make a wish, she could leave behind this boring cold place, leave and walk amoungst the skies with Joshua. Something warm enveloped her, something cold and smooth trailed little whispers across her palm before disappearing.

Rosette opened her eyes, and she was fifteen again.

* * *

Phew! I'll probably put another chapter out next week, but I have no idea where I'm going with this (true of all my stories, actually...) so won't be updating regularly. Not that I ever do. ...Oh well, hope you enjoyed it anyway and review please! Constructive crit much appreciated.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Ok, in case any of you wanted to know (since I did make it a little vague, sorry) - Progeria, Rosette's 'illness' was mentioned once in canon, volume 8. It was what she was diagnosed with, but we all know the truth, huh, Chrno? Basically, it's a rare genetic condition that causes accelerated aging of the body, causing an elderly, diminutive appearance and heart problems. The brain seems unaffected by the disease. There is no known cure and very few live to become adults.

**

* * *

****Close Childish Eyes. **

* * *

Rosette could barely remember the last time she had felt pain like this. Not the dull, relentless pain of sore, dry joints and torpor. Stinging pain, of tears in flesh that blood hurried to mend, of pain that smelt of green and mint and chips of rock.

She winced, sitting up and shaking bits of flint out of her palms. Her surroundings were dark, but a dim light scattered across the floor from a large opening. She was in a cave, she realized. The cold floor of rockbed slipped upwards into a sloping ceiling, too dark to make out. Pebbles scraped into her bare feet as she stood, careful to step lightly. Her skin felt new, like baby's skin, soft and yielding. Fragile, prone to rips. She pulled up the long sleeves of her pajama top and pants and inspected her arms and legs.

A pulsing feeling, maybe relief, maybe happiness, thumped into her throat as she trailed a finger across the smooth skin on her arms, legs. No wrinkles. No translucency. The ticking timer of death had stopped. It was almost as if she had gone back in time, to when the sickness had lain still, unknown and overlooked.

Her feet felt steady beneath her. For a moment, out of habit, she stooped to walk, aware that if she bent upward too much, exerted herself too much, she would feel the push of pain. _Should I? _Carefully, carefully, she stood straighter, her spine soundless as it realigned. No pain.

_No pain._ _No bones that creak from pressure. No heart that beats out of time. You can walk again – run, skip, fly! f_

She tried, but toppled a little from the cramp in her legs –_almost afraid she was dreaming_ – and like a new-born child, she stepped out into the moon.

"It's..." She stood there for a long moment, simply savouring the feeling of tresses of wind stroking her skin, the coolness of the night sending shivers into her lungs. She waited, but they did not contract, she did not cough. She grinned and stretched, fingers clamping on stars.

A darkness draped along the edges of her vision and she turned, meeting eyes of gold again. Upon seeing her turn to him, his lips pulled into a sort-of smile, one of fangs and not much else.

"When did you wake?" He asked as he moves to stand next to her, his black cloak tickling her ankles. Something clinks within its folds, and she looks, surprised, to see an old fashioned watch chained to his side.

"Just a little bit ago." Rosette replies, looking away. It's a curiosity, but nothing she should concern herself with. The Devil looks down at her, taking in the new way the skin folded around her flesh. Plump. Velvet. He averts his eyes, glowing with a glint of crimson.

"Hmm. Your sickness was a most peculiar one. If I had not known your scent, it would have been an effort to recognise you."

"Yeah, I almost didn't believe it myself." Her voice is soft, marvelling. She stares at her fingertips, now soft and fleshy with youth. "So...you never did tell me about this deal."

The Devil glanced at her for a moment before returning his gaze to the sky. "Yes. The contract is yet to be completed."

Turning, he bends and to her utmost surprise, kneels at her feet. That voice which shook with avalanches rolled from his bent head.

"By the name of Chrono, Keeper of Time, I bequeath upon you the gift of Time, stolen unwittingly by the passing of the lonely Lillith." His hand reaches beneath his cloak and he looks up at her, presenting her with the watch she had seen before. She takes it, feeling its heaviness, cold and mysterious.

As he stands, silent, she examined it. With no numbers, the single black hand of the watch glided gently over golden incisions upon the face. The top was shaped oddly like an alarm clock, rounded for the hand to press down upon. She holds it up to her ear and thinks she hears the slithering movement of sand, slowly falling.

The light that made the watch shine gold is wiped away by Chrono as he stood before her. Careful hands cradled hers with the watch, number-less face turned upwards towards the heavens. Gently, he bent down until he was inches away from the glassy covering and all Rosette can see is a head of violet, with two small stumps of bone white on the sides. She thought she smelt something of dry, dry earth and the whiff of dead leaves as they are crunched, dusty but hinting of a life long ago.

He murmured something, a phrase that escapes the keen hearing of her ears, and the watch grew warm. A silver sheen obscured the face, before darkening to a deep red. He straightened, and she realised he had bitten his lip, one fang tipped with scarlet. The blood on the watch sinks, as if absorbed. Something pulls at her insides, and she feels almost dizzy at the loss of something she's never noticed. Vision wavering, she barely notices his sudden slump, his throaty struggle for breath, that soft whisper of "Astral..."

A claw reaches out, pricks the skin on her neck. Rosette yelps, hand flying up to cover the sore area. Like a tiny cherry, it glistens on the tip of his claw, and as he brings it closer to his face, his eyes seem to reflect the colour. Frightened, the girl steps back a pace, an almost timid expression alighting her features. But the Devil is enthralled by the blood. He inspects is, sniffs it, and finally, a pink tongue exits its fanged home and takes it.

"Perfect..." he purrs. Wine-red eyes flicker to her, lingering on the spot hidden by the palm of her hand. The metallic sting of its smell was slight, evasive, but one with a nose fine-tuned to its setting could detect it easily.

Rosette's skin twitches around a tightly clenched jaw. Her head is throbbing, somehow in tune with the beating of her heart. An emptiness pervades her, echoing a hollow in her conscious. Something slips from her memory, fear rises. The wet slickness of the cut rubs a ridged pattern on her palm, and she forgets.

"You gonna kill me?" Her irate tone has inflections of fear and uncertainty.

He motions with his claw. _What does it matter, if you die here? _A voice seems to whisper in her mind. She struggles, trying to remember – _Go to him, at the very least, you got to be young again –_ something, something important, swings past the edges of her memory. She had needed this deal, but not for herself. She wrinkles her forehead in concentration. Blood trickles out between her fingers. The Devil watches. _Go, go quickly, quickly go, to him, him, give, let, blood!_

Warmth roars in her body, heat washes off her and burns the air as if her entire bloodstream was rising to the pores of her skin. Rosette gasps, and the intensity in his gaze breaks as he wrenches his eyes closed, hands clasping head.

"Joshua!" She cries, voice sounding high, a rough squeak. The watch tumbles from her hands and Chrono swoops near to save it. "You...I almost forgot him!"

Sweat is trailing rivers from her forehead, her skin is flushed. Her angry blue eyes are even more vivid than he remembers, when she was a frail childwoman tied to her bed by an old body. She seemed to absorb the colour of her surroundings, becoming vibrant. Almost too bright to stand. Like life itself, he thinks, as she furiously tries to hit him. Clawed hands careful of mortality grip her wrists as he stares down at this little child, unperturbed.

The small prick on her neck is almost clotted over with dried blood – _Astral! His mind screams. The last was that deer, that buck, that small animal, astral that pales in comparison to a human's_ – Almost feverishly, he pulls her upward and drags up the dried blood with a rough tongue, fangs yearning to bite and tear, to let out more. It has been too long, far too long, since he has tasted human astral.

"Devil! Let me go!" the girl is screaming, kicking, tears only highlighting the colour in her eyes. Chrono drops her, the watch chains tinkling in his hands. He remembers that he has another way of getting astral now.

"Did I frighten you, contractor?" His new name for her causes furrowed eyebrows, a suspicious look. He smirks. "Forgive me. Let us finish the contract. You wish to stay in that form, do you not?" A hand is offered, but Rosette is hesitant. "I will not take your blood." He beckons, almost cajoling, as one would with a distrustful cat.

"Will you try to make me forget again?" her question is not so carefully hidden as a decree.

He almost lets out a dismissive laugh at her boldness. Instead, he shakes his head, bending down slightly to ease her. "I will not." She goes, almost willingly. With a claw, he takes her chin and pushes it lightly upwards. She flinches, but he clicks his tongue in reassurance. The watch fits snugly against the hollow of her neck, and the thin chain only needs to loop twice around before it fits.

"It is done." She touches the heavy watch, surprised.

"That's it?"

"Yes. I merely needed to fuse my blood and some of your astral to it for the contract to be completed."

"Astral...is that...from before?"

He taps the clock face, hiding a smirk. Just like a child, her questions where incomplete, obscure.

"If you mean a pull and emptiness you felt within you, then yes. Astral is a form of your soul. Within that watch lies your astral holding tightly the time that permeated your body before it was ready. The movement of the hand controls the drip of it as it returns to your body. Take care of it, or the time will escape, and the sickness will devastate your body once more."

Her eyes widen at those words, and she clutches the watch. "So, this is my life?"

"Correct."

Rosette frowns, taking in this new situation. Finally she looks up at him, wariness in her face. "Then, what's in it for you?"

His fangs bare in a bestial grin. He had been waiting for this question. "Would you like a demonstration?" his question is delivered smoothly, and his contractor is immediately on guard.

"N-no, I think that's—" But he ignores her, hand reaching out to unclip the top of the watch. Pure, delicious astral floods into him, empowering, invigorating, causing his breath to be drawn in tight, short, gasping breaths. The many little cuts and sores on his body disappear like fading spots, and he gloats at the feeling of power within his veins - he felt as if a mere flick of his claw could tear down a city, he could take on anyone, even the Purs—

The well of astral is abruptly dried. He opens his eyes, seeks out the girl. She stands there, shaking hands clamped around the watch, her face pale and pallid. He frowns, a little annoyed at himself. He shouldn't have gotten overwhelmed by the astral – drunken Devils were a humiliation for both humans and their own. At least he had enough astral now to last him for at least a fortnight without killing.

"Yes." He murmurs, not meeting her eyes. Even a Devil dislikes being accused. "That is one of my benefits."


	3. Chapter 3

**Another for the Piety.**

* * *

"I need to go back to the orphanage."

Chrono rumbled with aversion. He did not enjoy being there. The overpowering stench of faith and holy water was a burn to his sensitive nose.

Nevertheless, Rosette was a stubborn child. "I have to! I need to tell them I'm going to search for Joshua! If I'm to find any clues of his whereabouts, it'll be there." She pauses, picks at the raggedy hems of her worn dress. Mumbles, "...and, I need to apologize. Thank them."

"Human fetterings." He growled. But she doesn't stand down, blazing blue eyes staring obstinately into his own golden ones. Finally he turns away stiffly, not in the mood to argue. "...Fine. I refuse to enter the premise, however. If they do not let you leave, I shall not save you."

Rosette brightens though, and soon, they are wheeling in the air above her old home.

"Ok, stay there, I won't be long!" Chrono sinks down into the soft grass and watches her run into the large building. He'll give her but half an hour.

"Sister Dahlia! I'm back! Hey, I'm back!"

At first the newcomer is met with confusion, but quickly, her boisterous blond hair, blue eyes and attitude are recognized. Shocked gasps echo around the dining hall, utensils clatter into wooden bowls.

"...Rosette?" The only adult gasps into her hands, ashen to her roots. "I...we thought..."

Rosette walks up to her and gives her a fierce hug. Trembling, it is returned. She steps back. "I just came back to say..." Her audience stare, Rosette blushes. She never was a good public speaker. Relentless, though. "Just to say...I'm sorry. Fer the trouble I caused, not doing work and all. And that big ruckus I kicked up when Joshua went. And I wanna say thanks for looking after me and him for so long." She grins at Dahlia, who blinks, as if only just noticing something.

"Your sickness, what happened to your sickness?" Whispers echoed around the hall, and everyone turned and leaned in expectantly.

"That's...a little awkward see." Rosette wondered whether she should say something so blasphemous as making a pact with a Devil and turning her back on the Almighty in his own establishment. Her lips wriggled like worms as she tried to stall for time. "Uhm...there was...someone...who helped me, and now...I'm not...sick?"

Silence. Then, a loud stomp as one of the children rose to their feet. Rosette had a sour feeling she knew who it would be even before she heard the loud complaint.

"I bet'cha were only pretending to be sick! I bet'cha jus' didn't wanna work like the rest of us! Hussy!"

"Kevin! Profanity!" The matron berated, but didn't deny.

Rosette marched up to him, anger snapping her stride. "Don't you call me names Kevin, I ain't too weak now to give you a proper beating!"

He scoffs, pushing her. Rosette shoves back. Before the Matron could even open her mouth in protest, a brawl erupted between the two.

But Rosette was wrong. She was still weak, at least against a young boy who had toiled daily in fields, strengthening muscles. She is quickly pushed to the ground, but she fights on like a wild terrier, her nails nipping into freckled skin, pulling hair, kicking wildly. Plates and bowls bounced to the floor as children leap out of their way to form a ring around the wrestlers. Kevin snarls, fist bunched and digging into her cheekbones.

"Ya loot! Even against a girl!"

"Stop this! Stop this at once!"

The woman's raised voice mixes, unheard, against the crows and jeers of the other orphans.

"Stop! Sto—"

A table booms and splinters as it is overturned. The voices die and even the two fighters stop to stare at the doorway. A large shadow, one clawed hand raised, stands by the entrance. Dust from the fallen table beside him rose in great clouds of white. He steps aside the collapsed chairs, entering the silent hall. His hard leather boots made soundless footsteps on the firm stone. The crowd shrinks back as he approaches, until it is just the two brawlers that face him. The matron seems to realise this is not the time to be frozen.

"D-Devil! You are not welcome here!" grasping her rosary, she runs to stand between him and the children. "Be gone!"

The Devil wrinkles his nose at her then peers around the Matron's seemingly tiny form at the two on the ground.

Kevin finds himself the subject of the Devil's steady, if a little unnerving, gaze. He looks down at the girl he's pinned to the floor, bruised and spittled with blood. Quickly, frantically, he pushes himself off, stumbling backwards into the huddle of orphans. Chrono beckons with one raised hand.

"It is time to leave."

The matron glances back, wide-eyed, at Rosette.

"This..._T-this_...is your helper? A _Devil_? Rosette, please say I am wrong!"

Rosette says nothing. Instead she picks herself off the ground, wiping dust and blood off with her sleeve. She barely suppresses a hiss as she passes carefully over bruises, cuts.

"Rosette..." the Matron murmurs weakly. "No...you didn't..."

"Sorry Mam. I made a deal with a Devil." She gives a little lop-sided smile through her injuries and walks around her to Chrono, who turns to leave. "Sorry." She whispers, looking half-back and not really wanting to – she doesn't want to see those condemning eyes, those shocked and horrified stares. Even a human dislikes being accused.

"Rosette. You've turned your back on your salvation. Take all your things and leave here, and do not return." Sister Dahlia's voice is shaky as she still grasps her rosary. She tries to ignore the dawning sun lighting the doorway, highlighting the poor child's form. It only makes it more bitter, more ironic.

Rosette doesn't think it is good timing, but she needs to ask. "Do you know where...Joshua is gone?"

Sister Dahlia's lips twist into a half-frown. Wonders momentarily whether she should just let the child leave without knowing. But her heart whispers of the child's innocence, and the Devil let's one eye trail back to her, so she speaks.

"Joshua was taken by the Magdalene Order."

* * *

Rosette stares at all her belongings, bundled together into one little bag. They had left the orphanage, Chrono being loath to stay any longer than necessary. She becomes conscious of the fact that she truly was an orphan, despite living in a home which had made her feel like she was part of a family. Unbidden, tears rose and fell from her eyes. She wiped them away angrily, but more came to replace. She would never see them again. She wouldn't be welcome, of course. What she was doing was, essentially, betraying her own people, fraternizing with the enemy, all for her own selfish desires. So she could be healthy. So she could find her brother.

And she couldn't even find Joshua's belongings. Had they planned his departure? Had his things been distributed out to the other children? She sniffed, pulling up bits of grass in her distraction. A whole chunk is soon unearthed, spraying dirt everywhere.

Chrono sighs, batting her hand away. She glares at him, but pulls her arms into her hunched form. The day is warm, and Chrono sits to rest for a moment. Ever the fiddler, Rosette begins to hum and rock instead.

"Will you stay _still_? Why don't you nap or go play somewhere else?" He grumbles snappishly at her from his resting site underneath a large oak tree. She huffs and flops onto her back, arms spread.

"When will we go?" her voice is almost, just _almost_ whiny. Chrono grinds his jaw, wondering whether a fresh source of astral was _really_ worth the hassle.

"_Soon_. My wings need recuperation and rest before flying long distances."

She waves a hand lethargically in the air. "New York, I suppose. I mean, _Magdalene Order_, sounds pretty poncy. We'd definitely find something in New York City." She lifted her head slightly, grinning. "Happy?" Chrono ignores her by closing his eyes and leaning back into the trunk of the tree. A soft wind blows across his face and he closes his eyes in rest.

A sudden jab in his side causes him to jerk up, his whole body almost falling to the side. "Argh!" he roars, hand clasping the offending area. Rosette roars too, with laughter.

"Child! Do not rile my temper! Be warned, or these claws will gout your intestines."

Her bright gaze, sparkling with mirth and ease seemed to sink placidly into the Devil, stilling the anger until he simply growled in exasperation and turned away. Children. It was no wonder they made the best prey for Devils. Naive, trusting. Guileless. Soft. Not at all fleshy and fraudulent like the older humans. The memory of skin like the exquisitely fine petals of a flower brushing past his fangs caused a tremor, the gritting of sharp teeth. He remembered the roaring of blood. An amused, almost scornful voice.

_It is to be expected, considering it all... Worry not, brother. Such human emotions are a burden that you only need to keep hidden. Remember, they are our prey, satiating life now as their ancestors did to ours eons ago. As mice to the __raptors of the night. There is no shame to lusting after their astral. _

A dark smile, intense eyes.

_Nevertheless, killing them outright is a rather messy and inefficient method of absorbing life. I will show you a way. A way to drain them...diplomatically__. Won't you join me, Keeper? Come with me, and never shall you be want of astral again._

* * *

**A/N: **So, this is the last little bit of what I had written. To be honest, I had written this on a whim and have no real, solid clue as to where it will lead, which is probably why I hadn't put this up sooner. But no matter! Maybe one of you brilliant writers out there will take up the idea and develop it into something amazing, hm? Well, um, I'm off to exams, see you in a few months!


End file.
